Discussions
by The Reading Elf
Summary: Tim and Tony talk while lost in the sewer systems of Washington DC. Feelings, thoughts, and secrets never heard before by any other agent of NCIS, not even Gibbs, are revealed to Tim. Warning: Mentions of child abuse


Darkness was everywhere. And it smelled where ever it was, very badly. From where he sat, Tony DiNozzo couldn't see anything. Something sturdy was leaning into his right shoulder. It groaned in pain every few seconds.

After a moment of thought, Tony himself felt like groaning. He hurt, everywhere - his chest and head especially.

And his right wrist. He really couldn't decide what hurt the most, truthfully. Was it his pounding head? Or maybe it was his wrist. After all, the wrist was twisting in an odd position. But in the end, his broken ribs won. It felt as if there were bruised ribs, too. Breathing hurt. Coughing and sniffing his runny nose, it all hurt much more than his head and wrist put together.

And god, whatever was breathing into his shoulder and jarring his chest and ribs, it was killing him.

"Stop," he said breathlessly.

"S…so-sorry," a familiar male voice stuttered in pain.

It took 3.5 seconds for Tony to realize who it was. "McGee," he whispered aloud. It took another 3 seconds to comprehend that he just spoke.

"Yeah."

"You…you d-doing okay," Tony asked the younger man in concern. And, he thought, it was hard to talk. So hard to speak with his rough and painfully tight throat.

"I think…I think I saw be-" he took a deep breath, "better days."

"You remember?" He knew his friend would get the silent question, _Do you remember what happened?_Tony just couldn't find the breath to ask the full question. His throat was raw. Then again, McGee probably felt the same way.

"Think so."

Tony waited for what felt like three minutes before he lost his patients. "Mind sh-sharing your… in-information?"

McGee nodded.

And so, another five minutes were spent it silence, the only sound near them was water rushing past and the two men's breathless breathing.

"Anytime, McGee."

"Think…I think we wer…we were…looking for'a susp…ect. Suspect."

"Guess…he caught us, in-instead of us catching him," Tony said with a sigh, a harsh cough following. He raised his right arm to his chest, then yelped in pain. He had forgotten, a broken wrist.

Again, it was undecided which hurt more, his broken ribs or wrist. He felt McGee lazily nod into his shoulder to answer his statement. "Don't fall asleep."

"Wha-"

"Do-don't fall a…asleep, Tim. Not right now. M'think you got a concussion."

"Y…You too?"

"Yeah, me too."

They sat in comfortable silence for who knows how long. Tony just knew it was a very, very long time. And, with both men having concussions and their throats rough for whatever reason, it was hard to speak at all, let alone full sentences. Both of their heads pounded in pain. Tony tried to sigh, but ended up in a coughing fit.

"You alright?" Tim asked, now snug in-between Tony's chest and armpit.

"I think." More minutes passed in silence as they leaned onto each other. "Give me a report," Tony demanded.

"I, uh, wha?"

"What's broken, bruised?"

"Left…my left eye is swelled. Ribs hurt, too, but…I-I don't think they're broken."

Tony waited in the dark silence around them for another minute. "Anythin' else?"

"Think…I think my nose might be broken. An-and you said I have a concussion. You would know better than I do about that."

"Good," Tony nodded, and then stopped. He had gotten dizzy. "I think we need to move. Do…don't know what happened to the…" Tony forgot what he wanted to say for a moment as a wave of dizziness hit him at full force. Finally, he remembered. "The suspect."

"Let about you," McGee asked quickly in the rough, almost whisper that was now his voice. "You never told me how badly you're injured."

_He's getting better from that young probie from so long ago,_ Tony thought with an inwardly sigh. "Concussion…broken wrist, the right one. Some broken and bruised ribs, too." Tony stopped himself before he said _it hurts._ "Can you get up," he asked the younger man. McGee nodded into his chest before he started to move, accidentally bumping Tony's ribs.

"Sorry," McGee said apologetically after he heard an intake of breath.

Tony said nothing. Finally, McGee stood tall, his left arm on the wall for support. The older man followed the actions, somewhat slower than his friend.

"You okay, Tony?"

"Never better," he answered, grasping at the wall in pain with his left hand. "Just gimme'a minute."

"How's the breathing?" Tim asked after several minutes passed.

"Better."

The two start to walk down the long corridor, water traveling up to their knees. "Sewers…I hate sewers…" Tony mumbled to himself.

"What?" McGee asked his friend in confusion. Both men walked with their shoulders touching, leaning into each other for help.

"Nothin', McNoisy."

Nothing happened as they walked. They walked and walked, and after a seemingly endless amount of time, the NCIS agents found themselves at a crossroads.

"I say we go left."

"Right."

"Left," Tony said louder, his voice echoing through the empty sewers.

"Fine," McGee huffed to the older man.

They continued in silence, the only sound being the water as they slushed through the darkness of the sewer systems. Then, minutes later, Tony fell onto his knees, his arms in front of him to catch himself. The water around him splashed, and he became covered in the liquid from his upper-arms and chest, down to his hips and legs. Instantly, the man screamed in pain. His broken wrist moved and shattered more inside of him.

His ribs ached from the movement and he breathed heavy. Not for the first time, Tony found his whole self shaking with the pain of a coughing fit. "Don't happen…to have an inhaler on ya, Tim?"

"No. Why," McGee asked Tony, almost unable to see the older man in the dark.

"Nothing, it just…helps sometimes."

As he carefully helped his friend off the ground, McGee found himself wondering about the life of Tony DiNozzo. "Do you run out of breath often?"

"In the winter, mostly. But my lungs haven't really bothered me for a few years. I keep my inhaler on doctor's orders, but I, uh, usually leave it at home," Tony said sheepishly while McGee shook his head. The two, once again, set off to walk as the water slowly lowered until it reached their ankles.

"You're gonna be on desk duty forever with that wrist," McGee stated.

Tony didn't answer. Minutes passed. Hours went by.

"I'm hungry," Tony complained.

"Same here."

Both men long ago stopped walking. They found themselves sitting on a side of the sewer system where no water was found.

"Gibbs is gonna find us, you know," Tony told the other while McGee leaned into the older man's shoulder.

"Yeah."

The younger man didn't sound interested in conversation. His voice sounded sleepy. Both men were ready for a nap, in fact. And, as fate had it, both men had concussions.

"Don't fall asleep."

"How do you propose I do that," McGee asked into Tony's shoulder.

"Tell me a story."

McGee stayed silent for a moment, before he sighed in defeat. "I don't think I can. Too tired."

"I feel ya," Tony said through a yawn.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You kinda just did, McDuh. But better yet, I'll grant you three more questions."

McGee didn't answer right away, which caused Tony to curse silently. "You have to stay awake, though."

"Okay," the younger man finally said, a yawn soon followed his statement. Then, simultaneous stomach growls emitted from both agents.

"Are you going to answer all the questions truthfully?"

"Yes."

"With details?"

"You're so lucky I'm this tired. But yes."

"First question," McGee said with childish delight. "What was the worst pain you ever felt?" Tim felt that was easy, because they, the team, would know about it. A simple paper-cut and the entire NCIS floor would know.

Tony closed his eyes and momentarily wished they were playing a different game, one where he wouldn't have to reveal such facts from his life. "Being whipped," he said. A second later, he added, "By my father. He was drunk." Tony sighed when he heard younger man's intake of breath.

McGee carefully picked out his next question. As long as it took, Tony thought Tim picked out the other question, too.

"How often was your father drunk?"

"More often than not," Tony answered his friend truthfully. He wanted to lie, lie like he always did, always does, but he promised to be truthful. Real DiNozzo men never backed down on a promise. His father had taught him that. And, ironically, his father was _not_ a real DiNozzo man.

No, there were many promises his father made, yet none of them had ever been followed through. Tony, as a small child, promised himself that he would _never_ be like the man who raised him.

As Tony mused in his head, McGee took time to process the answer from older man. "Did you ever tell anyone about your father?"

"He's not my father, Tim. Just the bastard who raised me."

"You're avoiding the question."

After a dramatic sigh, followed by a cough, Tony looked at Tim, what he thought was Tim, and said, "I told teachers and doctors as a kid. The only thing they ever did was make the beatings worse. I just stopped telling anyone after a while…happy, Timothy?"

"No. I wanna punch the man in the face."

Tony laughed at friend's response, before putting his hand onto his chest. "That's cruel, even for you. Making an injured man laugh..."

"Yeah." For a while, Tim and Tony said nothing. After five minutes went by with three sighs from Tim, Tony finally lost his patients. "What," he growled.

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

"About what," Tony asked McGee with annoyance.

"My childhood."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Was your childhood good?"

"It was fantastic, compared to yours."

"How nice of you to say," Tony told him in a sarcastic tone.

"So, uh, who…List your family."

"My family?"

Tim nodded into the older man's shoulder.

"Well," Tony told him, "You're out of questions."

"Common," the younger man whined. "Just one more. It's not a hard one."

"And my childhood wasn't easy." After a second pause, he added, "But I'll answer the question you just asked." He took a moment to collect his thoughts before he continued, "My family…my family isn't that big. My mum died when I was a kid."

Tim wanted to say he was sorry, but he was afraid to say anything. What if Tony closed up and stopped talking? He, never in his years as an agent, heard the older man talk so openly.

"My dad, he's amazing," Tony said, much to McGee's surprise. "Marine, ex sniper," he told the younger man with a smile. "He's always coming to save my ass, too."

Tim was confused only for a second. Then, it hit him: Tony thought of Gibbs as his father. _That's really depressing_, McGee mused.

"I got a couple of sisters and a brother."

Tim waited in silence, too shocked to say anything.

"Abby and Kate are my younger sisters. Abby's a crazy, happy goth, always smiling and laughing. Katie…Kate died. But we fought a lot when she was still around. I, uh, really miss her sometimes."

A pang of guilt hit Tim. He never knew the older man thought like this. He, himself, had never even thought about the team being family. They were just friends, people who looked after each other, and…

They _were _a family, he suddenly realized.

"Then, I have you, my weird little brother. You always know how to finish the job." Next to Tony, he felt Tim stiffen, only to slowly relax. "My Uncle Ducky is even weirder than you. He's kinda like what I imagined for a grandpap, but only, you know, he's my uncle. And let me lell you, Ducky, he tells these really long, interesting stories."

_Never thought of it like that_, the younger man thought to himself with a raised eyebrow.

"And finally, my cousin, Jimmy. Jimmy's there when I need him. He's like an anchor. He's exactly what every family needs. " Several minutes passed in silence. "You still awake?"

"Yes." Tim said nothing else, too lost in thought to think about talking. He didn't hear Tony try to talk after that.

He didn't hear the footsteps or see the lights in front of him, either. He didn't feel Tony nudge him. Then, seconds later, Tim jumped only slightly when his boss was suddenly in his face. He hugged Tim tightly before moving to Tony.

000

Tim was released from the hospital later that evening, with instructions to rest. He got away with a grade two concussion, bruised ribs and an aching nose. The doctors wanted someone to watch over him for the night, and Abby volunteered herself.

Tony, however, was to spend the rest of the night and tomorrow in the hospital for observation. The older man had gotten a large bump on the side of his head, and a rather nasty concussion to go along with it. The senior field agent had a shattered wrist and three broken ribs.

Then, if that didn't cut it, Gibbs joked with Tony, saying that he would probably stay on desk duty for six or more months. The younger man loudly disagreed, until Gibbs rested his palm on the back of the younger man's head. Tony instantly shut his mouth in surprise.

"Get some sleep, Tony. I'll be back in the morning," Gibbs told him as he rubbed the back of his agent's head.

"Yes, boss."

"You did good today," Gibbs continued. The older man nodded to his agent before he turned to walk out of the room, just as Tony started to shut his eyes. Before the door was closed all the way, Tony cracked opened his eyes once more. "Night, boss," he said in an almost nonexistent whisper.

000

_Reviews are welcomed._


End file.
